


How I Want

by ozonecologne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dean is actually a piece of shit human, Hate to Love, Jock Dean, M/M, Nerd Castiel, Prompt Fill, but... also bamf!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozonecologne/pseuds/ozonecologne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s an asshole. Cas forgives him.<br/>Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for my friend joheartvelle who submitted:  
>  _today I saw this guest speaker dude and he was talking about his first kiss and he is kissing this girl and she starts laughing and goes “don’t stick ur tongue that far down my throat dude” and then is like “let me show u how I want to be kissed” and leans his and kisses him all tender and iMAGINE DESTIEL HS!AU VERSION OF THAT_  
>  you got it kiddo

Dean was five seconds away from a growl as he stared across his AP chem classroom. He slunk lower into his chair, leaning his chin more heavily on his hands, and frowned deeper. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

Fucking Castiel Novak.

He sat in the front row, on the other side of the room by the window. Since the new school year started, Dean had made it his personal mission to glare at him with as much intensity as possible all throughout their one shared class – it was a wonder he hadn’t flunked out yet, but he couldn’t  _not_  do it. Cas was just such a fucking asshole. Leaned back in his chair all casually, like high-level science wasn’t even hard, like he didn’t even need to be there. He clearly wasn’t listening to the teacher; he was just folding up pieces of notebook paper into little paper cranes that he slowly piled in a corner of his desk. As if he had nothing better to do than tease and contort those lithe, clean hands, bending and folding with incredible ease.

 _Ooh, I’m Castiel Novak. I have a stupid angel name and like to distract my classmates with complicated Japanese paper art_ , Dean mocked in his own head.  _Cas, if you can read my mind right now, I want you to know that you’re a dick and I hate you._

Cas didn’t visibly react, so Dean resigned himself to wasting his energy watching him.

 _He doesn’t even save them,_ he thought angrily. _He just throws them all away at the end of the class. What is even the point of him_ , Dean wondered.

“Winchester. How many atoms are bonded to the central atom of a CH4 molecule?” Professor Crowley called in monotone to the back of the class.

Dean didn’t take his narrowed eyes off Castiel. “Four,” he said, without looking down at his paper.

“Good,” Crowley replied, writing it up on the board. “Can anyone tell me how Dean arrived at that answer?” he asked.

_I swear to God, Cas, if you raise your hand that makes you an even bigger know-it-all than you already are. No one likes a brown-nose. Don’t be a loser._

Cas didn’t so much as twitch, but Dean’s rage didn’t dissipate until the bell rang to dismiss them. He caught Castiel dumping six miniature paper cranes into the trashcan on his way out.

 

Inspiration struck Dean the next day like a lightening bolt. He’d been tearing little slivers of paper out of his notebook for the entire class period just to have something to do with his hands, and when Professor Crowley had his back turned, his eyes inevitably drifted over to Castiel. Very discretely, he crumpled up the paper in his hands under the desk. 

And then he pegged it at the back of Castiel’s head.

He snickered under his breath – as did a few of his classmates – as Cas lifted a hand to his thick, dark hair and scraped through it, trying to find the source of the blow. Dean turned his eyes front, totally casual. 

Crowley turned to write an example problem on the board, and Dean threw another piece of paper at Castiel, this one a little larger than the last.  _Let’s see him make a stupid swan out of that_ , Dean thought victoriously. It bounced off his head and landed on someone else’s desk, met with the sound of snorting laughter. 

Cas twisted in his chair with a tight frown and caught Dean’s gaze as he scanned the back of the room. Dean waved his fingers at him with a wide smile, and Cas narrowed his big blue eyes. He turned back around in his seat, and Dean quickly threw another piece of paper. 

Cas didn’t turn back around, not after the fourth or the fifth or the sixth paper ball, but his shoulders got tighter and tighter up by his ears. Dean could see him take a few calming breaths, and then he chucked another one, laughing to himself.

“Something funny, Winchester?” Professor Crowley called.

“No sir, just covalence,” Dean responded.

 

No one was really sure where Dean’s hatred for Castiel Novak came from. It wasn’t like Dean was an asshole – sure, he was a jock, but he didn’t have the same ego that the football players and the soccer players had because the wrestling team didn’t get nearly the same amount of notoriety. Dean was actually really nice to everybody, except Castiel. Hell, he was nominated for homecoming king two years in a row. It was like he was a completely different person around the other boy: sneering at him from across lunch tables, shoving him into lockers as he passed by on his way to class, and of course the very memorable incident when Dean decided to give Castiel his nickname, which he didn’t ask for and frankly didn’t want.

_“Aw, lighten up, Cas. It was just a joke,” Dean said._

_“Well I didn’t think it was very funny,” Castiel sniffed. “And it’s CASTIEL.”_

NO ONE called him that except for Dean. No one else dared. At first Cas had tried to correct him every time Dean had some obnoxious quip or a comment on his outfit, but had lately taken to ignoring him. That only made Dean worse.

Hence, the paper throwing.

It was the end of another school day and he was walking Sam out of the building so he could drive them both home when – just his luck – he spotted Cas coming out of a classroom down the hall, directly in Dean’s path. Dean grinned and nudged his brother with his elbow. “Hang on a sec.”

Cas had a few books stacked up in his arms, and Dean slapped them down to the floor as he sauntered past. “See ya later, Cas!”

He heard some grumbling behind him, and then the squeak of sneakers on linoleum as Cas bent down to pick up his things.

Dean walked on and didn’t even notice when Sam scoffed, disgusted, and crouched down to help Castiel collect everything. “I’m really sorry my brother’s an asshole,” Sam murmured. Dean heard those words and whipped back around, furious his own family would dare speak to the enemy with any measure of compassion.

Castiel shrugged and had a dumb little smile on his face. “It’s alright, Sam. Thank you for your help.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Sam said, getting to his feet and walking back towards his brother. As Dean looked on at their exchange, mortified, he met Castiel’s eyes. Even from here he could tell they were icy blue, hard and unforgiving as he frowned at him. He narrowed them accusingly, so different from when he was looking at Sam, and turned on his heel, leaving Dean gaping in the hallway. He was a mess by the time his little brother rejoined him.

“What the hell was that?” Dean hissed, walking briskly to the front doors.

Sam scoffed. “It’s called being a decent person, Dean. I can’t believe you’d do something like that to Castiel. What’s he ever done to you?”

It was Dean’s turn to scoff. “Dude, are you kidding? He’s totally creepy. And also –”

“I mean to you personally, Dean.”

“He stares!”

“At you?”

“Well, yeah! Sometimes!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well you are pretty goofy looking. You probably just had something on your face, jerk.”

“Hey,” Dean protested, shoving him off balance. Sam just grinned to himself. “Look, even Ash agrees with me on this one. He’s awkward and he stares a lot and, dude, have you heard him talk? It’s like a chain-smoking librarian. Not natural. And he doesn’t lift up his feet when he walks, just kind of shuffles. It drives me freaking bananas.”

“I have literally never noticed,” Sam remarked dryly.

“And he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else just because he’s really smart and does cool shit with his hands!”

Sam frowned. “Do you even hear yourself? You’ve done some pretty stupid stuff Dean, but hitting somebody just because you like them is really immature.”

Dean sputtered. “I do  _not_  like Cas.”

Sam ignored him, but Dean wouldn’t let it go. By now they had reached the parking lot, and a few onlookers watched in amusement as Dean went red in the face trying to defend himself. “We don’t have anything in common, Sam! Not at all! He wears ugly sweaters and reads a lot. You never trust someone who reads that much for fun. He has a TONGUE piercing – that’s shady as all hell. Also, one time he laughed at me in class for mixing some acids wrong. We have  _history_ , Sammy,” he insisted.

Sam snorted. “Really? Cuz I thought you had  _chemistry_.” He smirked suggestively.

Dean reddened and yanked open the passenger side door to the Impala. “Shut your face. Get in the car.”

Sam laughed loudly but did as his brother said. Dean slammed the door after him and rounded the front of the car with his head down, hoping to God above that nobody heard his little brother insinuating all kinds of nasty shit about him and Cas.

That Dean could ever like a dick like him? The notion was ridiculous enough to have Dean’s pulse quickening under his skin the rest of the afternoon.

Pft, yeah. Ridiculous.

 

“Morning, Cas,” Dean said cheerfully, slapping the other boy on the back.

Castiel winced a little and rolled his eyes. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Ready for that chem quiz today?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Castiel regarded him for a moment with a bit of hesitance. His eyes were slightly narrowed again, his lips turned down in a tiny frown.  _Even his lips are stupid, wow_ , Dean thought to himself, studying them. Intently.

Cas shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, totally. Good luck. I hear Crowley’s a real stickler about sig figs, so double check your math.”

Castiel’s expression cleared somewhat, and his frown morphed into a tiny smile. “Thank you, Dean. Best of luck to you as well.”

Dean smirked to himself as they parted ways. “Mhm, luck. You’re gonna need it,” he muttered.

Looking back on it, it was a really shitty thing for Dean to do.

Half way through the test, Dean got up to sharpen his pencil (like an asshole) but hey, the pencil sharpener was located conveniently beside Castiel’s desk. Taking his sweet ass time, he watched Castiel work diligently on his quiz.

_He’s gonna be so wrinkly when he’s old, he frowns so much. That little line between his eyes, yeah, that’s gonna be a canyon when he’s 60. Ha ha. It’s not cute at all. Also fuck his eyebrows._

With the point on his pencil nice and sharp, Dean walked back to his own desk. Noticing that Castiel’s attention was turned to his paper, Dean reached a hand out and swiped his calculator right off the desk and stuck it in his back pocket.

He sat down in his own chair again, watching the back of Castiel’s head as intently as he would the climax of a movie. He saw Cas turn, slender fingers poised to punch in an equation, only to discover his calculator missing. He twisted in his seat a little, looking right and left for it, and Dean caught a flash of panic in the other boy’s otherwise clear eyes.

Good luck, indeed.

Castiel appeared to take a few calming breaths and ran his hands through his hair, tugging slightly near the nape of his neck. Dean watched the moment intently, savoring it; he thought his hands might have been trembling – so capable of deft and pretty movement now reduced to nervous tremors. It honestly didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have.

Castiel finished his test without aid of a calculator, but he looked haggard and disappointed as he slumped down in his chair, mere moments before the bell would ring. Dean walked up to turn in his own test, waiting patiently for Cas to return to his seat, and reached inside his back pocket.

With a smirk and a wink, Dean dropped the calculator on Castiel’s desk, and watched with great amusement as Cas looked up at him in mortification, utter confusion, and maybe just a little bit of awe.

But Cas never retaliated against Dean, never, not for all the horrible things he’d done to him in the past. So Dean had nothing to worry about. Yeah, maybe he crossed a line, but what was the nerd going to do about it?

The bell rang. Dean was in no hurry to get to his next class, so he made small talk with his lab partner as he packed up his things, walked without worry through the door like he wasn’t bothered in the slightest by the wrong he’d committed in class. If Sam were here, he’d kick Dean’s ass.

A hand suddenly yanked Dean’s varsity jacket, and before he could even complain about wrinkling the leather someone had slammed him back into a row of lockers. Furious, blue eyes bore down into his.

Suddenly Castiel Novak was all up in his face with strong hands and a twitching grimace and a low hiss of, “I have _had it with you_.”

“Me?” Dean asked, wishing it sounded like something other than a shocked squeak.

Cas’s eyes flashed. “Yes, you. What is your  _problem_  with me, Dean? Hm?” His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it was cut from diamond. He felt like he could cut himself on it if he got too close.

Dean’s brain finally caught up to the situation and he frowned back with matching intensity. “I don’t have a problem! Let go of me, Jesus,” he spat, struggling against Cas’s grip (which frankly was a lot stronger than he thought it would be). But Cas didn’t budge – he had him pinned by the lapels to the wall, and while Dean could definitely upend him with brute force alone he was kind of curious to see where this was going.

“No, not until you fucking listen,” Cas told him. A shiver ran through Dean – probably a cocktail of anticipation and anger. “As far as I know, I’ve been nothing but civil to you. And I would really appreciate it if you treated me with the same respect,” he said.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I bet you would,” he spat.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “That’s all you have to say? You really are a caveman, aren’t you? I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it’s clear to me that you don’t even deserve that courtesy.”

Dean shoved back and knocked Cas a little off balance. “Look, Castiel, I just don’t like you! Never have, actually! You’re inconsiderate, boring, not to mention a total smart ass,  _infuriatingly hot_ , and you don’t give a damn about -”

Castiel blinked. “What was that last one?”

Dean scoffed. “God, you really are dense. I said you’re a smart ass, among other things.”

“No, no. After that.”

Dean frowned, not understanding. “You didn’t let me finish, Kanye,” he growled.

Castiel pushed him back against the lockers again, this time with his whole body, chest pressed to Dean’s. Dean’s heart squeezed a little tighter and Dean froze for a minute.  _Just adrenaline_ , he thought as his heart pounded in his chest. _It’s gotta be adrenaline._

Cas was smiling a little now, just out of the corner of his mouth.  _What the fuck does he look so smug about?_

“I believe the words ‘infuriatingly hot’ were mentioned,” Cas said, leaning an inch closer to Dean. God his eyes were blue.

“Wait, what,” Dean blurted. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Look, Novak, it’ll be a cold one in Hell the day I ever pay you a compliment!”

“It’s a good thing you’re wearing a jacket, then.”

“Quit putting words in my mouth!”

“Why don’t you make me?”

So Dean did. By some incredible force of nature - be it demonic possession, magnetism, gravity, voodoo - Dean leaned forward and inelegantly crashed their lips together.

_WHAT ARE YOU **DOING**  ARE YOU FUCKING KISSING HIM FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY????_

Dean’s hand found its way up to Castiel’s hair and he tugged him closer, slipping a knee between both of his. He channeled all of his aggression into making Cas  _shut the hell up_ , biting at his lip and running his tongue over the back of his teeth. He caught a cold flash of metal as he brushed against Cas’s tongue piercing, Castiel’s hands were fisted in his jacket again and – oh. 

That wasn’t anger coursing hot in Dean’s veins. It was the same nervousness he got when he decided he liked somebody, the fluttery feeling in his stomach when someone really beautiful looked at him. Oh no.

Dean had been acting like a grade school kid with a CRUSH. Throwing things at the cute boy and calling him names, stealing his stuff to get him to pay attention to him, what the hell, was he five? Sam was fucking right, damn him.

Cas suddenly nudged Dean back so his head knocked against the lockers. It didn’t hurt, he was too fucking stunned for anything to faze him. Their lips parted with an obscene smack. Dean just blinked at Castiel, slowly being consumed with horror at what he’d done. He could feel the blush steadily rising to his face. “Uh,” he sputtered.

But Castiel had the audacity to  _laugh,_ and Dean couldn’t help but notice how his breath stalled when he heard it. "You don’t have to stick your tongue that far down my throat,“ Cas suggested, wiping his mouth with his hand. Before Dean could even think about defending himself, Castiel was blinking back up at him, something smug and secret shining in those eyes. "Let me show you how I want to be kissed,” he said softly.

He brought that hand up to Dean’s face and guided him back down again.

Their second kiss was slow and tender and the opposite of everything Dean just did – _figures he can’t even kiss right,_ Dean couldn’t help thinking. Except… except this was really nice, actually. Cas’s lips were soft and his touch was gentle, so much sweeter than anything Dean deserved after hounding him the whole year, and he found himself completely melting into it as they moved together.

Why was Cas letting this happen? Dean had only ever been cruel to him. He was so good, a saint, Dean decided. Something holy and angelic and too pure for this world and Dean should be on his knees begging for forgiveness.

(There would be plenty of time for that later.)

When Cas pulled away, Dean chased him. He was sure he looked completely moronic as he blinked open his eyes, wide eyed and gaping and embarrassingly star struck. “I’ll, um. I can try to be less of a caveman,” he found himself saying. “Sorry.”

Castiel smiled and took a step back, taking all that delicious warmth and tenderness with him. “Thank you for your apology, Dean. I’ll see you in Chemistry.”

Dean watched him shove his hands in his pockets and stroll down the hallway like nothing ever happened, and he just mumbled, “Yeah,” to himself, lifting incredulous fingers to his lips as if he would still be able to feel the sparks that flew between them.

 

Based on the sickening heart eyes Dean has been making at Castiel Novak for the past week, Sam has to say he liked it better when he hated him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come fight me on [tumblr dot com](http://www.ozonecologne.tumblr.com)


End file.
